


you’ll make the fire (my bones will make it grow)

by hopefulundertone



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Genocide Run, Grillby Boss Fight, No Mercy Route, Post-No Mercy Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:51:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulundertone/pseuds/hopefulundertone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <b>*You got Sans' Tab.</b>
</p><p> </p><p>(Or, Sans isn't the last boss fight, and Grillby's waiting.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	you’ll make the fire (my bones will make it grow)

**Author's Note:**

> so i was thinking, how can i make sans's death even more heartbreaking? ah yes grillbz. title from [hometown](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJtlLzsDICo) by twenty one pilots bc DAMN THEYRE SO COMPATIBLE WITH UNDERTALE 
> 
> another good song to listen to while reading is [world on fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Is1ibSGzwC0) by bo burnham (seriously check it out rn)

“welp...i’m going to grillby’s...papyrus, do you want anything?”

Dust sifts in the wind, and you kneel. You’ve won, and you can feel your LOVE increasing. It strengthens you and leaves you emptier at the same time, but you’ve come this far, you’re not about to give up now, not for anything, and especially not some pathetic skeleton. Casually kicking at the dust that’s all that remains of Sans, you find a tightly rolled piece of paper, and pick it up, unfurling it. You’re not prepared for the sudden whoosh of wind as the other end unwinds into the shadows of the judgement hall, the paper impossibly long in your hands as you squint at the type.

***You got Sans’s Tab.**

Gritting your teeth, you clench the knife in your hand; you’re ready for everyone to be dead and gone by yesterday, and although you’re so close to leaving, you still have unfinished business. Still, you have time, you can savour this. Striding from the hall, you viciously spit in Sans’s dust as you go. Damned skeleton can’t just let you go without one last obstacle? Fine. You’ll destroy that too. Then you’ll slaughter Asgore, and yank every petal off that stupid flower; Asriel always was weaker than you.

The road back to Snowdin is lonelier than you remember, each bend of the road filled with phantoms of enemies, their betrayed faces looming every time you shut your eyes. Occasionally, you’ll encounter piles of dust that mark your route, and they’re the only thing that can make you smile, a mirthless grimace that stretches your lips as you’re reminded of how close you are to freedom. They thought they could take your soul? They can think again. Fools, every one of them.

You SAVE outside the bar, your determination spiking in the face of finally leaving the underground, and push the door open. It’s empty, as you expected, but Grillby stands behind the bar polishing his many glasses, as unmovable as a mountain. He glances up at you, but the flames are unreadable, and you lock gazes for a moment before he looks back down at his task. It infuriates you, for some reason: you’ve slaughtered everyone he’s ever known and loved, and he still pretends that he isn’t bothered? The firelight glints off your blade and you bare your teeth, advancing towards him.

_*…_

_*…_

_*The bar is closed._

You look around in mock surprise. Well, you have gold. Lots of it, in fact. You have lots of, well, everything. HP. ATK. DEF. GOLD. EXP. LV.

_*..._

_*..._

_*I do not wish to fight you._

It drags a laugh out of you, even though the sound is awful and unnatural. After everything you’ve done, he still doesn’t want to fight you? Well, that’s alright. Papyrus didn’t want to fight you either, and look how he turned out. Dead, the pathetic, naive, weak bag of bones. Smirking, you raise your hand, and toss him the tab, watching him unfurl the paper. Grillby’s flames flicker as he scans through it and pockets it, coming around the bar to stand before you.

_*...so._

_*Y_ _ou killed Sans, and you wish to provoke me into fighting you as well._

_*..._

_*This is your last chance, human. Turn around. Leave the underground. Go now, and you will never see me again_.

Leave without killing Grillby? After everything you’ve done? You stare at him, refusing to move an inch.

_*..._

_*I see._

_*You want a fight? So be it._

Finally, a proper battle. Adrenaline fills your blood as Grillby rolls up his sleeves, revealing flaming arms. He kneels for a moment, and you flinch instinctively from the flames that begin to catch, devouring the floorboards as you step back. Your soul glows for a moment, and the battle begins.

***The bar is on fire.**

You circle each other, and he allows you the first move. A gentleman to the end? The bartender will regret that soon enough. You check him warily.

***GRILLBY - 17 ATK 100 DEF**

***A bartender ready to collect a tab. His fire form makes it difficult to physically affect him.**

You dart forward, swiping Grillby in the chest; his waistcoat tears, but not much else happens. He stares at you stoically, before flinging fireballs, reminiscent of Toriel’s magic, except this time, he’s not going easy on you. You’re already out of breath when his turn ends, but savage joy stretches your features and you grin, alive with the prospect of a worthy opponent. This time, you stab, sticking him in the chest with your knife. He flares his magic and you lean back to avoid the searing heat.

Halfway through the battle, he begins talking. You’re not exactly surprised; they all have a story or another to tell, but you never had Grillby pegged as a conversationalist. Still, you never thought he was a fighter either, but so far… well, it hasn’t been easy, just surviving.

_*…_

_*…_

_*Sans was one of my best customers._

You scoff derisively; you doubt that. By the length of his tab, he never paid up front in his life.

_*…_

_*…_

_*It’s true. I arrived in Snowdin nearly dead. It’s not exactly the place for a fire monster, is it?_

You shrug. To you, it isn’t a place for any monster, mainly because they’re all dead but one. You slice, aiming carefully for his face. He sidesteps it smoothly, and peers over his glasses at you.

_*…_

_*Sans found me. He let me live with him and Papyrus for a month while I recovered._

_*He gave me the money to start up a small restaurant, which I eventually renovated… to this._

Grillby glances around, and narrowly avoids a chunk of flaming rafter as it falls to his feet. He seems sorrowful that his life’s work is in fiery shambles. You couldn’t really care less, but nothing you do is effective. You might as well be sparing him for all the good you’re doing. He attacks once more, relentless and fierce, and you dodge, jumping and ducking to avoid his missiles.

_*..._

_*..._

_*He is- was always welcome here, with no question of payment._

_*Over the years, I did my best to reciprocate his kindness, but I could do little._

You’re not sure how relevant this is, but it’s entirely possible and somewhat twisted that Grillby fancied Sans. The thought makes you laugh; the pain of unrequited love must have hurt Grillby far more than anything you’re doing. You still slash at Grillby for the sake of it.

_*..._

_*Sans was perfectly charming half the time he was in here. The other half, he was a wreck._

_*I could not help him. The only thing he ever seemed to care about was his brother._

_*You took that from him, and he had nothing left._

Laughter fills the room, and it takes a moment to realise it’s yours. “It was too easy! You should have seen his face! Their faces! So much betrayal, so much hurt, ha! Hilarious!”

_*..._

_*He told me one night. I served him as much alcohol as I was legally permitted to, at his behest._

_*And he told me everything, from the RESETs to the anomalies of his timelines, to you, human. The cause of all his pain. Our salvation, our destruction._

Now this, this stops you in your tracks, and you pay dearly for it, taking multiple hits straight on before you have the presence of mind to dodge and retaliate. This frustrates you, predictably, and you hiss, practically throwing your blade across his chest.

_*..._

_*I couldn’t pretend to understand half of what he told me, but I told him I’d always be there for him._

_*Would you like to know what he said to me?_

Your curiosity overwhelms your desire to destroy him, and you dodge almost absentmindedly, your swipe halfhearted. Could this have been the next MTT blockbuster tragic romance story? Not anymore. The thought cheers you, and you nod.

_*..._

_*He said, “I know.”_

_*When I asked him how, he looked me in the eyes, and said, “You’ve said the exact same words the last 87 times I told you this.”_

At this point, you can’t hope to concentrate on the battle, and for that, you die several times, but eventually you return to that point, and gaze expectantly at him. The next time you swing, he steps back, but you’ve wised up, throwing your knife at the ceiling instead. It slices through the remaining rafters, and the snow that’s had a hundred years to build up falls directly into him, putting out his flames instantly. The figure that staggers free is almsot unrecognisable, stick-thin and made of cooling magma that slowly hardens into rock. His skeleton, you guess, and laugh at the irony, but it’s not over. Creakily, his hands retrieve Sans’s tab and light it with the little flame they have left, before placing the paper in his mouth. Having used up the last of his strength, Grillby falls backwards, and the unstable bar collapses on top of him.

It takes you a moment, and it’s almost too late when you turn and run for the exit. As it is, you die twice before you escape the bar. Fifty bottles of alcohol and a fire monster? It’s the perfect recipe for disaster, and you feel the intense wave of heat nip at your back, but nothing more. A moment and an explosive whump later, you’re standing in the blackened remains of Grillby’s bar, and turn to face him.

Grillby is huge and molten, flames roaring in a ferocious circle around his feet as he lunges forward. He’s only vaguely humanoid now, his elegantly outlined features now an unrecognisable lump of magma. The only things you can distinguish are his glasses and his mouth, the latter hanging open. Sans’s tab, impossibly long, hangs from his maw like a tongue, rapidly being consumed by flames. Each turn, you’re left panting on the ground with two HP or less, and you’re too busy eating your items to fight. To be honest, your only hope is the tab, now hanging from his gaping jaw, steadily consumed by the flames. If you can just survive until then…

Sure enough, the tab burns down to a stub and you watch as Grillby kneels.

_*C’est la vie. C’est la mort._

_*The debt is paid._

_*..._

_*..._

_*I hope…_

Curious, you watch as, impossibly, a tear runs down the fire monster’s face. Everywhere the droplet touches, fire is extinguished, the patches of cooling magma growing by themselves as you swallow hard, engrossed in the systematic destruction of the monster. Flickering orange and red fades to solid rock, slowly but surely frozen in place. For a moment, it stands, a humongous rock figure towering over your head, and as the tear falls, you lean out and catch it. It sears into your hand, a black spot that burns dully. And just as quickly, the figure’s gone, dissolving into a whirlwind of white flakes that fly into your face. You spit some out and laugh humorlessly at the irony; it’s real ash.

Impatiently, you wipe the matching tear off your cheek and continue on your way. Only a mere foothill stands between you and your freedom now.

 

***You got Grillby’s glasses.**

>info

***20 DEF. 7 INV.**

***The lenses are cracked and sooty with ash.**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> idk man i just like the thought that nothing you do can hurt grillby, but in the end he puts himself out by crying for all his dead friends. hope you enjoyed suffering! comments and feedback always appreciated! ]:-D


End file.
